Name Day
by ariel2me
Summary: Egg's secret gift to Betha for her twenty-ninth name day.


His father used to write poetry for his lady mother as a secret gift for her name days, a gift completely separate from the books, the jewels, and the other gifts he presented to her in public. Egg and his sisters had found the verses inside an oaken chest not long after Lady Dyanna's death, each parchment hidden between pale violet handkerchiefs of silk-and-lace that matched the color of her eyes. Egg had not read them until years later, when he was old enough to blush at some of the contents. His father had written odes to love and joy and … well … _desire_ , words that burned through the pages as hot as dragonflame.

 _As hot as dragonflame._ Prince Maekar had not described his love and desire for his lady wife in such a clumsy and ham-handed way, of course. His verses were more subtle and understated, yet all the more passionate because of that subtlety and understatement. They were certainly very different from Egg's current attempt to write poetry for his own wife's name day gift.

 _Nine-and-twenty you may now be,_

 _Yet that spirited lass of nine-and-ten I still see,_

Egg groaned. Betha would laugh, uproariously, if he ever showed her this. She would cock her head to one side, roll her eyes, raise her eyebrows to high heavens, andshe would laugh, long and hard. He had not been married to her for ten years without knowing this.

Or, even worse, perhaps she would be offended. _Are you saying that I am old? Do you prefer the company of that lass of nine-and-ten you wed? Do you hanker for that younger version of myself?_

No, writing poetry was certainly not one of his talents, Egg decided. He would have to come up with something different.

 _Of course!_ he thought, when inspiration finally struck. He might be too inept for poetry, but he was not too inept for –

" _Puppets_?" Ser Duncan's eyebrows were the ones being raised to high heaven at the moment. "You want to put on a puppet show for your wife's name day gift, with my help?"

Egg nodded. Years ago, he and Ser Duncan had seen a hundred puppet shows during their travel in Dorne.

"And what is the tale you want to put on?" asked Ser Duncan. "Florian and Jonquil?"

Egg shook his head. Betha was not fond of the tale of Florian and Jonquil. "If all men are fools, and all men are knights, does that mean that all knights are fools?" she once asked, wryly.

"It's a puppet show about a girl, a knight, and his rude squire," Egg replied.

Ser Duncan laughed. "Well, well. I suppose I know which part I will be playing. But what about the girl? Who will be playing _her_ part?"

"I know just the right person," said Egg. "A clever girl and a quick learner, just like her lady mother. Will you help me, Ser Duncan?"

"I will," Ser Duncan said, his eyes gleaming, "but on one condition."

* * *

"Oh, you are so very _tall_ , ser knight. So _marvelously_ tall. I never thought I'd ever meet a man taller than my father," Shaera said, her hands working the Betha puppet.

The real Betha objected. "I'm sure I did not sound like that, like … like a lovesick puppy."

"Father _told_ me to say it that way," Shaera piped up, forgetting the role she was playing for a moment. "I told him Mother would not have sounded like that, even as a girl, but he said that was how he remembered it."

"I said that was how the squire _heard_ it," Egg said. "And that squire was mistaken about ever so many things, as we know."

"Well, that is true enough," said Betha, with a twinkle in her eyes.

Egg smiled and nodded at Shaera, signaling her to continue.

"How tall are you, ser knight?" Shaera continued.

"Seven feet tall, my lady," Egg said, in a gruff, booming voice, his hands working the Ser Duncan puppet. "The man who knighted me used to say that _growing_ is the thing I do best. He –"

"Not seven feet! Ser Duncan is never seven feet tall," Ser Duncan interrupted, doing a very good imitation of a huffy and sulky little boy. _This_ was his condition, that instead of playing the puppet version of himself, he would play the puppet version of the boy Egg.

Betha burst out laughing. "This … this is too perf –"

She was laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

"Your squire is _rude_ , ser," the puppet Betha said, indignantly. "This is the third time he's interrupted our conversation today. He needs to learn better manners."

"I am not rude! Ser, tell her ser. Tell her you are an inch shy of seven feet," the puppet Egg sputtered. "An _inch_ shy. Not seven feet tall at all."

Before the puppet Ser Duncan could reply, Shaera broke character and asked, "Was Father jealous? Was he jealous because you paid more attention to Ser Duncan, Mother?"

* * *

The puppet show was a great success. The audience of one was thoroughly entertained. And very touched. "You wrote a puppet show for me."

"It could have been worse. I tried writing poetry, at first," Egg said, grinning.

"Did it rhyme?"

"Oh yes, it did. Very much so."

"I would like to hear it," Betha whispered, in her husband's ear.

Egg turned as red as a pomegranate. "It's too awful for words. I can't possibly recite it to you. I'd be too embarrassed."

Betha picked up the puppet Egg and handed it to the real Egg. Her other hand was holding the puppet Betha. "Perhaps _this_ Egg would not be too embarrassed to recite the poem he wrote."

This poem did not begin with, _Nine-and-twenty you may now be._

When it ended, Betha brought the puppet Betha closer to the puppet Egg for a chaste peck on the cheek. The kiss between the real Betha and the real Egg was a very different kind of affair altogether.


End file.
